Warmth
by gryffindormischief
Summary: Harry's getting used to being a father.


A/N: this is kind of a serious one, but the prompt was fairly detailed and there wasn't really a way to make it overly funny. I slipped in some fluff and it ends happily so hope you all enjoy :)

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Harry wakes to silence, Ginny's fiery head pillowed next to him, freckled shoulders hunched against the autumn chill. Reluctant to brave the cold without good reason, he makes to snuggle further into the duvet, fingers just reaching for his wife's small form when a cry breaks the stillness, _James_.

Soon enough, Harry is padding down the hallway, toes catching tiredly on the various throw rugs that litter the dark floors, until he reaches James' nursery. Distressed whimpers sound through the half ajar door and Harry's nerves kick in, James never whimpers. He's a go big or go home type of crier, making his distaste for his plight clear to all who will listen – often _painfully_ so.

With a few quick steps, Harry finds himself pushing the door open with enough force that it slams against the pale yellow wall, rattling the paintings and photos that litter the surface.

A chill runs down his spine as he finds himself confronting the face he'd hoped never to see again, red slits peering at him with unbridled glee as he hisses a greeting, "Hello again, _Harry_. I was just acquainting myself with your son."

Reflexively, Harry's hand shoots to his hip where he customarily holsters his wand, only to find it bare. Immediately, his mind starts flitting through various scenarios that end with someone dying – and never the snake like intruder cloaked in darkness he considers a welcome casualty.

Realizing surprise may be his best chance, Harry leaps forward, throwing himself between James and Tom Riddle, the man who perhaps _couldn't_ die, the latter letting out an arrogant chuckle at his efforts. "Well this seems familiar? I suppose that's all Potters can do – die like fools."

James' chubby fingers link around Harry's worn t-shirt as Riddle raises his wand, a deadly spell lingering on his lips, when another voice enters his consciousness, calling his name – _Ginny_.

Harry finds himself half elated half terrified – his entire family could die, but maybe she can get to James fast enough –

" _Harry_ , wake up."

With a jolt, Harry pushes upward, nearly knocking Ginny from her perch on the side of the bed in the process, James nestled safely in her arms, dark eyes wide and searching as he sucks his fist.

Cold sweat trickles down his spine, sheets twisted around his legs, as Harry finally returns Ginny's worried gaze. "Hey Gin. Mate."

James giggles as Harry follows up the greeting with a tickle to his rounded belly, cheeks bright with happiness. Apparently knowing him better than most, Ginny passes his son over without prompting, caressing the hereditary messy mop with gentle fingers. "Little man nearly slept through the night."

Cradling his son close, Harry brushes a kiss across James' brow, long fingered hand broad and strong against his back as tiny Quidditch players wink to and fro across the green cotton.

Ginny gently squeezes his knee, slipping her dressing gown over freckled shoulders before leaving the room, presumably to start breakfast.

As pots and pans clank from downstairs, Harry gathers James as close as he dares – a steady, comforting thrum of a heartbeat rumbling out of his small chest – and lets out a long breath as he follows Ginny's path, emerald eyes darting unbidden to James' unmolested nursery.

Upon entering the kitchen, Harry considers the tufted swing his son favors over all his aunts and uncles – save a still shocked Percy – but strides past, settling down in one of their decoratively mismatched dining chairs. "Can I help Gin?"

She pauses, uncracked egg poised over the side of the sizzling pan, and considers his expression and likely shadowed eyes before shaking her head and continuing her preparations.

After she's overfilled two plates with all the fixings of breakfast, Ginny flicks her wand and both float gracefully toward the already set table.

Harry's just settled the bum of an increasingly wriggly James into the crook of his left arm, tugging his plate closer, when Ginny slips into her set across from him, the tufted swing levitating behind her before landing right at Harry's feet.

Ginny sends him a small smile, foot finding his beneath the table, as he settles James into the seat, setting it rocking gently. Without pause, James' small hands stretch toward the colorful shapes suspended over his head as his parents tuck in.

They eat in comfortable silence save James' contented coos until Harry's dragging a carefully browned triangle of toast through the yolk eking across his nearly empty plate. Taking a gulp of chilled pumpkin juice, Ginny stretches an upturned hand across the table between them, the click of her engagement ring and wedding band sounding against the polished wood. "Harry. He _is_ gone."

Harry freezes for a moment, finally grinding into action as he wipes his fingers against the crisp paper napkin tucked beneath his plate. "I know."

Ginny quirks a brow as he lets her hand cradle his, but doesn't challenge him.

Thumb stroking the side of her palm absentmindedly, Harry sighs again, "Maybe my _subconscious_ doesn't. But _awake_ Harry remembers."

She chuckles at that, James catching on soon enough and letting out his own childish laugh, the duo bringing a warmth to Harry's chest he didn't realize was still so tight.

"I s'pose having our own little one brought back some memories?"

At this moment, James finally finishes working the sock off his right foot, flinging it with remarkable accuracy toward his father's face.

Placing the sock next to his finished breakfast, Harry laughs, "I s'pose that's it. Little bugger's quite a ball of trouble. I'm quite attached."

Ginny grins fondly, morning light catching the gold streaks that run through her messy orangey locks. "Love you."

Harry squeezes his grip on her hand, running the fingers of his free one over James' bare foot, earning a carefree giggle in response. "Love you too – _both_."

Taking a deep breath, Ginny stands, pressing a kiss to both Potter men's heads before gathering their dishes and setting them to wash in the sink. "Care to show that affection?"

Smirking, Harry stands and wraps his arms around her middle, forcing her to pause in her tidying, "Whenever you like Mrs. Potter."

Arm rising to wrap around his neck, Ginny's close cropped nails scratch against his scalp enticingly as she murmurs, "Well I think James would prefer to be relieved of his dirty nappy sooner rather than later."


End file.
